Wednesday, September 30, 2009

A wee hours of the morning post.


Contrary to all well laid plans, I promptly fell asleep on the comfortable sofa last night at about 8 o'clock. I was fully dressed and just sort of toppled over sideways, but I don't actually remember a darn thing about it. It was a spontaneous sleep attack that struck me like a super bolt of lightening. It was an instantaneous case of falling soundly asleep and nothing could have stopped it.

It was very late when I woke up again and all the lights were burning brightly and the blinds were still open to the dark night and the TV was on. I changed into my comfortable pajamas and put my warm gray cardigan on to keep me from feeling chilled and took all of my medication, including my sleeping pill. I figured I would sit behind the trusty computer for about 20 minutes and be sound asleep in no time.

Well, several hours have passed and I am still stubbornly sitting behind the computer and I don't have a sleepy bone in my alert body yet. I must have a very strong constitution if I can defy a strong sleeping pill. Of course, I used to take them during the day to help me calm down, so I'm used to quite a large dose of them. I'm like a wild animal that needs an extra load of strong drugs to help put it into a deep sleep.

Instead of soundly sleeping, I'm trying to pay extra attention to my writing and trying to follow the exact rules of it. That means I write and read and edit, which is not something I normally do, but I have plenty of time for it now. I've made changes in every sentence I've typed, except this one. I don't have an education in writing literature and I don't know anything about grammar. All I know is what I've learned from reading many good novels. I'm an autodidact and writing in a second language (not the language of my childhood, and not the language I speak during the day).

In a little while, I'm going to do some painting and drawing. The Exfactor brought me another box of acrylic paints and he didn't want me to repay him for them. I though that was awfully kind of him. He does like to do me small favors like that and I appreciate them and let him know that too. I don't get all gushy, but thank him man to man, the way he can handle it.

Anyway, I'm going to do some painting and drawing and I think I have one that I have to finish still and I will start on a new one. I really want to make a real doodle, one that is completely abstract and that does not depict anything but shapes and forms, but somehow will look like something organic that is alive and could have come out of nature. Something like Sue's Doodles here. You have to have a lot of imagination and free association to be able to draw something like that and I am going to give it a try. It will be a test to see how loose I am in my artistic abilities to just let something emerge without forcing it to.

I have creative therapy again today and I don't know yet what I will do there. Several options are running through my head. I may just ask the therapist to give me an assigment. That way I will end up doing something I haven't done before. Which would be the smartest thing to do, of course. I am there to learn, after all, and to pick her brain, but I also have ideas of my own that I want to try out, so it's a toss up.

The things that have fallen completely by the wayside are the chores, but I'm not really concerned about them, because they will wait for me until tomorrow when I have the whole day off. I have to do the grocery shopping this afternoon and I'm not looking forward to that one bit. For some reason that causes me to feel stress and I don't like it. I'm trying to work my way around it and to figure out what the problem is exactly, but all I can come up with is a general unease about the whole thing and wanting to put it off indefinitely.

I think I feel very uncomfortable on my bike with it loaded down with all the groceries, but that's not the whole reason. There's more to it than that. I think that I don't feel entitled to be on the street and in the store and I'm afraid that someone will approach me and challenge my presence there, as if I'm not allowed to be there. As if I am a secondary citizen who doesn't have any rights and who so far is getting away with stuff, because she hasn't been caught yet. That's how it feels to be a person with a mental disability in a "normal" world.

Well, with that big confession I leave you. I must go draw and paint.

Have a good day once you wake up and find this. Feel free to share your thoughts with me.

Ciao,
Nora

7 comments:

jeannette stgermain said...

You thank him (Exfactor) "man to man" - that's funny Irene!!
About the street - remember, the street is public property. That's why everyone pays taxes. So you can be on it as very other adult, kids can be on it, people from other countries can be on it.
You have as much right to be on the street as anyone else, dear lady.
Mental illness is not different than physical illness, so erase that big fat lie out of your mind and enjoy the street, like everyone else:).

Crystal Jigsaw said...

Hi Irene, a lovely post this was, very bubbly and full of news. I've been a bit out of sorts recently but it's always good to catch up with good friends.

CJ xx

Gail said...

It could be the same problem I have about grocery shopping, been doing it too long. I will do anything to not have to buy groceries, I just hate the chore.

I haven't gone in my pjs, something I swore I would never do.

I have decided my money is as green as anyone elses and I deserve the same respect as each and every other person there. Sometimes I even remind the young checkers, respect is expected, they are working for the public.

aims said...

I can't do the grocery shopping - The Man has to do it.

It is something about the height of the aisles with all that product looming down at me and all the colours and smells. I get absolutely frantic in that kind of store and I can't think and have to get out - all sweaty and losing my breath.

On the other hand - if I go into the grocery store with The Man - I am usually fine. I don't do it often but when I do I am fine with him - my knight in shining armor and protector. Strange. Still - he always asks me if I can handle it - before we go in and during. Sometimes I can - sometimes I can't.

Friend of the Bear said...

Hi Nora. Your brain obviously has it's own ideas about when it wants you to sleep or not! I often thought with The Bear I needed a tranquilizer dart - as with a wild animal - to calm him down. The sort of strength needed would be the same as for an elephant!

It's incredible that you write so well in a second language.

Strange the rules of dealing with an ex. The Bear will not tolerate me embracing him at all. He finds it too painful even now. But he demands a kiss on both cheeks when we say goodbye!

Exciting not knowing what you will be doing a creative therapy. Hope it was a good one.

I managed the supermarket today after seeing my CPN. I am using one I never normally go to. Being "unknown", a stranger there, is helping.

I know what you mean about feeling not as good as "normal" people. I have felt that a lot since I became ill (almost 9 years now). But this is only something we feel in our own heads. To the supermarket we are just another source of money.

Also it is illegal now in this country for a shop or service to discriminate against a disabled person (including mental illness), which does give me a bit more confidence although I've never been discriminated against. As I say, the problem is only in my head not in reality.

In reality Nora, you are an exceptional person, not secondary at all. And you need a trailer for your bike to put an end to wobbling.

Best wishes,
Bearfriend xx

Wisewebwoman said...

Try and get to a real bed tonight, in real darkness so that you can claim your soul, dear friend.
TV and lights and couch not too good for that.
I hope your grocery jaunt was OK, I did mine on weekend, enough for about a month, I hate grocery shopping. I don't know why. Yes I do. I was sent almost daily by my parents to pick up stuff and I resented all the waiting, etc while the butcher cut the meat and the clerk weighed the flour, etc., and I hated people looking at me. As if they did, know what I mean?
I was a long time in life before I realized that most people are too caught up in their own lives to care about me very much. Ha!
XO
WWW

John M. Mora said...

Art is good once you drop the leading F.

Do art.